For Sam
by bubblesquirt
Summary: Excerpt: 'Cause there’s no comfort in the waiting room, just nervous pacers bracing for bad news.


Disclaimer: I do not own anything. I am not making any money from this.

Author Note: So this song is basically amazing, and I suggest you listen to it. I was thinking about Dean and Sam and then I listened to this song and I sat down to write and this just kinda flowed out. I'm not expecting much from this, but I thought I'd share it. I hope you enjoy it, and maybe let me know what you think.

Again, I do not have a beta, so any and all mistakes are so totally mine._  
_

* * *

_And it came to me then that every plan, _

_Is a tiny prayer to father time, _

_As I stared at my shoes in the ICU, _

_That reeked of piss and 409._

_And I rationed my breaths as I said to myself, _

_That I'd already taken too much today. _

_As each descending peak on the LCD,_

_Took you a little farther away from me. _

_Away from me._

_Amongst the vending machines, _

_And year old magazines,_

_In a place where we only say goodbye. _

_It stung like a violent wind, _

_That our memories depend, _

_On a faulty camera in our minds. _

_And I knew that you were a truth, _

_I would rather lose, _

_Than to have never lain beside at all._

_Then I looked around at all the eyes on the ground, _

_As the TV entertained itself. _

_**'Cause there's no comfort in the waiting room,**_

_**Just nervous pacers bracing for bad news.**_

_Then the nurse comes round,_

_And everyone lifts their heads._

_And I'm thinking of what Sarah said,_

_That love is watching someone die._

_So who's going to watch you die?_

_Song: What Sarah Said_

_Artist: Death Cab For Cutie_

* * *

This couldn't be happening. This wasn't happening; it was just a bad dream, a horrible nightmare that he would wake up from soon. Just _wake up, damnit!_ He pressed his palms harder into his eye sockets, digging his elbows into his knees, welcoming the pain as he tried to shut out the images assaulting his brain. 

_Blood. Tangled limbs. Blue lips. Limp neck. Blood… So much blood…_

Why the hell was this happening? How the hell could he have _let_ this happen?! He took his eyes off him for one second, just one frickin second and-

"Excuse me, are you Dean Winslow?" The petite, blonde nurse was hovering over him, too close for comfort. Dean leaned back for a second, eyes wide and uncomprehending, before springing to his feet, ready for answers. He tried not to tower over the incredibly short nurse, but found it kind of difficult and wondered how short she really was. Five foot? Five one? _Man, Sam would look like a giant next to her._ The thought of Sam brought him back to the matter at hand and he snapped his attention back to the nurse's moving lips.

"…not seeing any improvement, unfortunately and we might need you to start preparing for more invasive measures."

_Invasive what? _What the hell was she talking about? Because she sure as hell wasn't talking about his brother, his huge, compassionate, girly, weirdo brother that was breathing and laughing-, well who was he kidding, not laughing but at least bantering back and forth with him less than an hour ago. It was simple. Nothing could have gone wrong. Nothing was supposed to happen. _As long as I'm around, nothing bad is gonna happen to you._

"This has got to be some mistake…This isn't…" Dean took a breath, and tried again. "Are you sure you've got the right patient? Where's the doctor? I wanna see Sam's doctor." Dean was done trying not to be intimidating, and his volume increased with each demand. But it seemed the nurse could hold on her own.

"I can assure you, _sir_, that I am quite capable of taking care of my patients and relaying the diagnosis back to the –"

"Is there a problem here?" A tall, gangly man in a white coat, a _doctor's _white coat, was suddenly next to them. Blondie abruptly changed her tune, and smiled sweetly at the physician.

"No, no sir. I was just explaining to Mr. Winslow here, that the patient-"

"Sam. His name is Sam." Dean interrupted, not just a little irritated at the situation.

The doctor looked at the chart in his hand, and pulled his glasses back on the bridge of his nose. He pursed his lips and tugged at his earlobe before looking back up.

"Yes, Sam Winslow. Your cousin?" The doctor inquired.

Dean sighed and rubbed tiredly at his forehead. They couldn't afford getting caught, especially with Sam out for the count. Dean wasn't even comfortable using their real names, but with Sam unconscious, limp, unresponsive (don't panic, he'll wake up, he has to wake up), he didn't want to risk him calling out for a Dean and having to explain that one. The cops would be looking for two brothers. Hopefully they could get through this and disappear before anyone was the wiser. Just please don't let their luck run out yet…

"Yeah, yeah, but his parents died when he was little, so my parents took him in. We're like brothers." The nurse's eyes softened a little at this, and she looked back to the doctor.

"I'm Dr. Barlow, and I've been taking care of Sam. I don't know what exactly Nurse Morgan has already told you, but Sam is still unconscious and he's not responding to anything that we've tried so far."

Dean took in a quick breath and raised his eyes to the far wall, working his jaw. He tried to keep his composure, tried not to break down in front of these.. these _strangers_, because Dean Winchester did not cry. Not in front of Sam, and especially not in front of incompetent doctors or fucking know it all nurses.

"What are our options?" Dean didn't know how he sounded so calm, because inside he was not calm. For a second all he could hear was his heartbeat and his stomach clenched and he thought he was going to be sick. _No, keep it together. You have to. For Sam._

"I'm afraid we don't have any answers for you just yet. But I promise to let you know if – _when_ we do."

Dean's eyes snapped back to the doctor's face, the slip not going unnoticed.

"I want to see him. Sam. I _need _to see him. Now." Demanding, begging, pleading.

Blondie started to shake her head, her mouth open with the totally wrong thing to say to Dean right now, but Dr. Barlow spoke before she did.

"I'll take you to him. It's not visiting hours, but I'm sure we can make an exception this time."

_Damn straight.  
_

* * *

Dean stood outside the closed room door for a couple minutes, leaning his head against the hard wood. Swallowing suddenly became too difficult and he felt his chest ache at what he was about to see. Why was he suddenly so weak? He needed to be strong for Sam. Sam needed him to be his big, tough, unbreakable brother, and all Dean could think about was how just the thought of losing his little, big, nerdy, somewhat emo brother was making his knees tremble and his eyes burn. 

Dean's breath hitched, and the sound of it seemed to snap him out of his pity party. He inhaled through his nose, and let it out through his mouth. After doing that a couple of times, he gripped the door handle and turned it, ready to be there. For Sam.


End file.
